


An Honest Mistake

by mandjalorian



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandjalorian/pseuds/mandjalorian
Summary: “You do realize I’m not actually a prostitute, right?” You asked, disbelief etched across your face. Javier smiled as if you’d just told a particularly good joke, but the smile slowly faded into horror. “Yes?” He asked, his voice cracking. Your cheeks warmed. The door you’d been holding open so gently for him before, you kicked open until it hit the jamb and bounced back. Javier had to block the edge of the door with his hand to stop it from hitting him full in the face. “Quitate ya, pendejo!”
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter One

Usually, you hated bars. But...you were tired. You were stressed. And Xochitl was your only friend willing to stay out so late. And she only liked bars.

You threw another shot of tequila back, savoring the burn as it went down your throat. Things in Bogotá had only increasingly been getting worse. You knew it was a risk to be out at night, let alone this late. But it had been so long since you’d been able to just enjoy one irresponsible night out. 

Your eyes met the gaze of the same man for at least the third or fourth time that night. He was sitting attentively across the way at a table instead of at the bar, drinking beers. He’d been with a group of other men and a gringo who were gone now. You swore his eyes hadn’t left you since. 

The thing was he’d caught your eye the moment you’d walked into the bar. He was guapísimo, of course. But it was more than that. He exuded confidence. And sex. When his friends had still been there, he’d never dominated the conversation, but when he had spoken up, everyone had listened. See, you’d been watching him too.

Several girls had approached him, but he’d turned them all away. You weren’t sure what percentage of those girls had been prostitutes, but, regardless, he seemingly only had eyes for you.

It made you confident, but it also made you nervous. You hadn’t been with anyone since your ex en la universidad. Maybe it was time. 

You felt a warm presence behind you and, intuitively, you knew it was him. You felt yourself go shy. 

“Permiso,” he excused himself, as he squeezed past you to take the bar stool next to you. He smelled faintly smoky and earthy all at once, but it wasn’t overwhelming, it was pleasant. He busied himself with catching the bartender’s attention and ordered another beer. But you knew it was only a matter of time until he talked-

“Otra?” He gestured to the thimblefull of liquid left in your glass.

“Yes,” you breathed his way, cursing your sudden onset of shyness. The liquor was supposed to have taken away your inhibitions, but this stranger was testing that.

He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling pleasantly as he studied your face carefully as if figuring you out. Then he was turning away to order your drink. You studied the outline of his face from beside him. The sharp curve of his nose. The strong line of his jaw. His mustache, neat and trimmed over his lips. _His lips._ You studied his full bottom lip, the way it pouted down slightly and you found your own mouth opening-

“Javier,” he offered suddenly. Your cheeks warmed as if he’d caught you looking, though if he had, he pretended he hadn’t. Then his hand was extending your way. Automatically, you reached out and took it. You breathed your name back in introduction, relishing in the way his large hand enveloped yours. His hands were rough, callused, but incredibly warm. 

Xochitl, oblivious that she was, broke the spell. “Mamí,” she leaned around your left shoulder, kissing your cheek wetly. “Ya me voy. Got me a man.” Then she spotted your stranger, your hand just leaving his. “Ooooh, looks like I’m not the only one. Have fun,” she purred, kissing your cheek again before scooping up her purse and jacket and sidling out the door of the bar.

You laughed awkwardly towards Javier. “Mi amiga, Xochitl. She has no filter.” You apologized.

“That’s ok.” He paused, then- “...mamí.” You felt an involuntary wave of pleasure wash over you at the sentiment, and you could have sworn he winked at you. Your face warmed as you looked downwards. Then the bartender was putting the margarita in front of you, and Javier was paying him, giving you time to recover.

The two of you spent close to two hours talking, laughing and drinking. He was expressive with his hands, appreciative. He’d find a reason to reach over and rest that warm, large palm of his on your bare skin. When he’d pull away, it was like your arm was on fire. Once, he’d brushed your hair away from your face and it had made you feel faint. 

When you found out Javier was a federal agent and an American, you almost weren’t surprised. It made you wary, but by then you were in too deep. You spent the time discussing his job and the state of Bogotá. He was careful not to delve into anything too detailed, but you admired what seemed to be his strong work ethic, and in turn, he expressed admiration at your ideas of what Bogotá could be in a future without the narcos around. He expressed particular interest in what the neighborhoods had been like before things had blown up.

He watched your face attentively as you spoke. And he never interrupted you. He listened to every word you said and responded to everything you said in a way that told you he’d been paying attention. He was like no man you knew around here. He was like no man you knew at all. And he was funny. On more than one occasion, he had you throwing your head back in uninhibited laughter. 

He found ways to compliment you that weren’t inappropriate, though his eyes roamed your form, lingered on your neck, on your thighs. But it never made you feel like he was undressing you. It felt more like he was discovering newly uncharted terrain. Or unwrapping a particularly luxurious present.

Then the bar was closing, and you started at the time, a slight fear at the reality you’d be walking the streets alone to get home. But you eyed Javier as he smiled at you suggestively and wondered if that was true.

You didn’t say no when he offered his jacket before you stepped through the door outside. Nor when he hailed a taxi. You gave the driver your address and sat back against the seat, realizing then how close he’d sat to you. Every area of your skin that touched him sang with electricity. 

Then he was leaning his head down to smell your neck. You drew in a sharp breath at the contact. You really were touch starved. You felt him press his lips to your skin and your nails dug into his thighs. You felt his tongue then on your skin and dug your nails in further. Then it was his turn to take a sharp intake of breath. 

“You taste so good,” he murmured in your ear, his voice low and raspy. And you just knew you were going to be soaking before he even got into your panties.

“Wait,” you tried, but your tone was weak and he didn’t heed you as he trailed kisses up your neck to your ear. He took your earlobe between his teeth softly and nipped. You whimpered involuntarily but leaned further into him, now impossibly impatient to get home.

Finally the taxi was stopped just in front of the door to your building and you breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out as Javier paid the driver quickly. He clambered out behind you, a quick buenas noches to the driver before he slammed the door. Then his hands were on you as he backed you into the pickup truck parked at the curb. 

“Fuck-” he breathed out impatiently before finally taking your lips with his. You moaned, unable to control yourself as his tongue entered your mouth hungrily. He tasted even better than he smelled. The faint taste of tobacco mixed with the whiskey he’d been drinking and something so distinctly him. It was intoxicating. You couldn’t think. His hands couldn’t seem to decide where they wanted to touch you first. They went from your behind to your arms to your breasts until you were gasping into his mouth.

A car backfired suddenly from somewhere in the distance, but it was enough to bring you to your senses.

“Inside,” you murmured, out of breath, and he nodded but kissed your mouth hard once more before letting you take his hand and lead him into your building. He squeezed your behind once as you climbed the stairs unsteadily in front of him and it startled you. You tripped, but he was catching you around the waist and then bringing you back to him in the middle of the stairwell. His hands traveled up your front to your neck, then your jaw, then his beautiful fingers were at your mouth. And you didn’t have a choice but to open your mouth to allow his fingers entrance. You sucked on his fingers once, twice.

He jerked against your behind. “Fuck,” he muttered, drawing his fingers back out of your mouth, wet now with saliva. “Go.” He urged you, his hand at your lower back.

Both of you were breathing hard as you reached your door. You fumbled with the keys; there were a total of three locks to get through. You gasped as his mouth found your neck once more. He was sliding his jacket off you already as his lips sucked demandingly at your skin. He was making it impossible for you to get the door open. His kisses peppered your skin, leaving a blazing trail in their wake until he had you pressed against the door. You moaned, the noise echoing against the metallic cold of your apartment door.

He swatted your hand away from the last lock and finished turning the key. Then he was slamming the door open and tossing your keys through the door at the same time that he urged you through it. He slammed it closed and locked all three bolts at the same time that he ambushed your mouth again with his. Your teeth clashed and then his tongue was sweeping your mouth again. You started to believe then and there that the taste of his mouth was more addicting than the cocaine he was fighting to get off the streets. 

You gasped loudly into his mouth when you felt his hand reach under your dress and your arms wrapped around his neck for stability because you felt your knees would buckle the second he touched you _there_.

His hand searched out the waistband of your panties, and you threw your head back against the door when his index finger found the top of your slit.

“Fuck,” you heard him hiss, and he was drawing back from your kiss to double over, his head bumping the door now, seemingly taken with something- “You’re so fucking wet.”

You nearly wailed when his finger plunged into that wetness to find your waiting nub, already overstimulated. You had to anchor your knee against him as his index and third finger began establishing a circular rhythm against your clit.

“So fucking wet,” he was muttering dazedly before bringing his lips back up to your neck, licking and sucking and nibbling every inch of skin he could reach. 

Meanwhile you were gasping for air, trying to draw in a full breath. His fingers on your clit were becoming your undoing. He focused on your nub, rubbing heavy slow circles before reversing the motion. Your legs were trembling as he worked you up into a euphoric stupor. You began to shake in his arms and his fingers changed pace, rubbing over your slit and down, dangerously close to your entrance. You gasped his name and his fingers were back on your clit with an urgency to match your building peak. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped before leaning his head down toward your breast. His other hand came up to pull your dress down and your bra aside roughly. Then- You nearly screamed. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, before licking around the outline of your breast.

The sound his fingers were making against your cunt were obscene, your juices sloshing between his hand and your skin. You had to stand on your toes, so intense was the pleasure. Unintelligible words and moans left your mouth loudly when he bit your nipple almost painfully. Then, you were coming hard. You let out a ragged sob mixed with the sound of his name on your lips, as you crumpled against him.

“Please,” you whispered repeatedly, trying to stop his hand assaulting your clit, the sensation too much.

“Fuck, mamí, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He kissed you again finally, a deep, slow kiss, sucking your tongue into his mouth. Then he was pulling his hand from under your dress. He pulled away from your mouth and brought his hand up to your lips almost questioningly. In a wild spur of adrenaline, you surged forward to suck and lick his fingers clean. You’d never done that before.

“Fuck,” he breathed again in a hoarse voice, barely restraining himself from fucking your mouth with his fingers.

“Bedroom?” A desperate question.

You gestured a weak arm to the left, toward the hallway. He stole your mouth again with his, pressing you hard into the door as he kissed you hard and fast. Then he was hitching a hand around your knee, lifting it to hook it around his waist, and with his urging, you did the same with the other until he was supporting your weight entirely in his arms. He jerked his hips roughly into yours, groaning. 

Then he was carrying you past the kitchen, down the hallway and into your bedroom, kissing you roughly the whole way. He fell unceremoniously with you onto the bed, still ravaging your mouth, both your breaths gone ragged. 

Before you could take in one deep satisfying breath, you felt him shoving your underwear aside and then- Oh, when had he undone his belt?

He put his own fingers in his mouth now and then went to wet his tip but stopped when he saw you watching. Then he was putting his fingers into your mouth again and with an orgasmic moan, you were sucking him off his fingers, wetting them with your own saliva. His fingers went down now, past his dick and were suddenly entering you, still wet with a combination of your saliva and his. He pushed his fingers into you and you half gasped half screamed at the sensation.

His eyes closed tightly as you watched his face. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he uttered over and over. “You’re so fucking tight.” It was a prayer. It was worship.

His fingers left you with a wet slick sound and you keened again when you saw him wet his dick with your juices before positioning himself at your entrance. You kissed his mouth now, slipping your tongue between his teeth, exploring his mouth. You cried right into his mouth when you felt him thrust into you. He sunk in slowly and you let out several gasps of air as the feeling of fullness grew until you could no longer take any more.

He was panting heavily too, no longer able to form anything other than the first syllable of his favorite swear words. It had been so long, it almost hurt how much he was filling you, but the feeling dissipated as he began to move. He withdrew his cock almost all the way until just his tip was within you. You cried out, the pleasure building deep within you again, when he bucked all the way into you again and again. He pulled out again nearly all the way, then sunk in once more, faster this time. 

“Javier. Javier.” You prayed to him now, unable to say anything else. You were full of him, completely taken in every way with his presence and his body.

He pulled out nearly all the way again so much so that your hips surged forward to take him almost all the way back in. His turn for a cry of surprise. He used one hand then to roughly pin your hips against the bed, as he pumped in and out of you.

“Tan bonita. Mamí. You’re so fucking-.” He trailed off into rough gasps, kissing and sucking the skin of your neck again, leaving trails of saliva. 

Soon, he was increasing his speed, the pressure. His thrusts became ragged, uneven. 

“There. There,” you cried out, begging. He could feel your cunt tightening around his dick and he began to pump faster. He thrust into you swiftly, his strokes growing shorter as you felt yourself seize up around him. Your entire body spasmed. You swore you lost your sight for just a second as you arched your body up into his. You wailed as your peak broke and began to ride the waves of pleasure. Then- He gasped unevenly and pulled out of you completely. 

He dragged you forward by your hair and you knew immediately what he wanted. You surged forward as he leaned backwards and you took his slick, warm member into your mouth, tasting yourself on his length.

“Fuck,” he rasped again, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “So beautiful.” Then he was throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he fucked the back of your throat. You felt his warm seed hit the back of your throat and nearly gagged but let him ride his own wave of pleasure between your lips until he stopped thrusting, and you fell backwards. He fell on top of you with an unceremonious groan.

You enjoyed the weight of him on you in your delirium. It made you feel safe. And warm. You expected him to fall asleep immediately, but when you sought out his face, you saw him watching yours from where his face rested on your breasts.

He was studying you, his eyes glazed, as if searching for something. He reached his hand forward and caressed your face. You kissed his palm, each of his fingers.

“You’re so-.” He stopped, as he traced each of your eyebrows with his index finger, your eyelashes fluttering against his skin. He traced down your nose, over your lips, to your chin. “It’s never been so-.” He stopped again. Then, “you’re fucking perfect.” He told you before reaching up and kissing your mouth. Soft. So soft. Softer than he had at all before. So tender. You fell asleep watching the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he fell into his own slumber.

The next thing you remembered was waking up and feeling cold. “Javier?” You mumbled, half asleep. You heard rustling nearby and sat up suddenly.

“Esta bien, amor. I’m here.” He was slipping back into his pants.

You were disappointed. Surely he could spend the night and still leave early enough to get to work.

“You can’t stay?” The shyness was back, especially after what you both had just got done doing. 

He watched you carefully but shook his head. “Next time,” he promised, sliding his arms into his jacket, which he must have recovered from your entryway.

He leaned over to kiss you and you let him, but then you were adjusting your dress so it covered you and standing up. You stood on your toes to kiss him again, long and deep.

“I’ll lock up after you,” you murmured against his lips.

He pecked your lips once more, then your nose, then pressed his lips sensually against your forehead for a long moment.

Then he led the way to the front hallway and turned suddenly, an intense look in his eyes as he pushed you against the wall by the front door to kiss you passionately once more. “I mean it,” he said breathily against your forehead. “You’re perfect.” You kissed his chin, the only part of his face you could reach, not knowing how else to return the sentiment, too shy to start with such endearments already.

You opened the door as he leaned away, expecting him to go through and leave, but he was fidgeting with something from his pocket. His wallet. The moment was long and confusing as he pulled a swathe of bills out, folded them around themselves and offered it to you. Your eyebrows furrowed furiously but you began to laugh, figuring it a joke and wondering in the same moment how you could have been so wrong about his sense of humor. 

A smile, uncertain, grew on his face. “Is it more?” He seemed so unsure.

The smile dropped from your face completely and you made a noise in the back of your throat, still not fully understanding. Why was he keeping the joke up? It wasn’t that funny to begin with, but the earnestness in his eyes-

“You do realize I’m not actually a prostitute, right?” You snapped, disbelief etched across your face. 

Javier smiled as if you’d just told a particularly good joke, but the smile slowly faded into horror. “Yes?” He asked, his voice cracking. Your cheeks warmed. The door you’d been holding open so gently for him before, you kicked open until it hit the jamb and bounced back. Javier had to block the edge of the door with his hand to stop it from hitting him full in the face. “Quítate ya, pendejo!” 

Completely humiliated, you shoved him through the door. “Wait,” he pleaded, but then you were slamming the door in his face, sure you must have hit one of his fingers as he reached out to stop you. Then you locked each of the three locks and rushed back to your bed to steam in shame, humiliation and embarrassment. What had started out as such a promising, beautiful night had just as quickly turned uglier than you could have imagined. The worst you would have thought could have happened was that there would have been no one at the bar to take you home, or that the sex would be bad.

As you fought the tears that threatened to spill and tried to ignore the several knocks echoing from your front door, you buried your head in your pillow. It still smelled of him. You threw it across the room. But his smell was in everything. You buried your face in your hands; the smell of him only grew stronger. 

The worst thing about all of this was that he had actually been so perfect. So promising. In every way. Not just sex. In the few seconds it took to get from your bedroom to the front door with him, your brain had managed to convince you that there was a chance you could have something serious with him. 

This was why you didn’t ever put yourself out there.

“Carajo,” you moaned into your sheets.


	2. Chapter Two

“What happened to your hand?” Agent Murphy asked, leaning over Javi’s desk to take a long pull from the fresh cup of coffee waiting there.

Javi ignored the question. “Ey, get your own, cabrón.” But the insult was half-hearted.

Attentive as ever, it only took Murphy a moment to realize something was off with his partner. His brow wrinkled with worry. “What’s wrong?” 

Javi looked at his partner without seeing him. “Nothing,” he muttered. But then his eyes zeroed in on Steve’s face and he realized that Steve thought something work-related had gone wrong.

Javi straightened his pose, sitting up from where he’d been slumped. “No, really, it’s nothing. Just- something...personal.”

Then, Murphy scoffed, unbelieving. “Since when do you have a personal life?”

Javi glared at him, willing him to shut up.

Steve’s demeanor changed as he plopped down into the seat across Javi, grew earnest, incredulous. “Fuck, did you really meet someone, man?”

Javi sat stone faced then got up abruptly. “Need coffee.” He grunted before stalking out.

“You’ve got a full cup right here,” Steve called after him as he leaned over to take another long pull from Javi’s cup.

Javi trotted down the hallway, desperate to get out of Steve’s irritating vicinity. The last thing Javi needed was Steve questioning his personal life now that he (sort of) had one.

Javi lit his cigarette as he blasted through the doors to the embassy and out into the cool morning air. 

The truth was he couldn’t get his mind off the woman he’d met a few nights before. He’d gotten over his embarrassment quickly. He still felt bad it had upset her, but he also didn’t see the big deal. There was nothing wrong with being a prostitute. It was more honest a job than a narco or, let’s be real, most cops. 

The thing that was truly bothering him was that he wanted to see her. He _needed_ to see her. He didn’t even want to fuck her. Well- No, he really did. Badly. But it wasn’t that that was making him crazy. He just wanted to see her, breathe her in, talk to her, see her smile. Three, four hours tops in her presence, and she had toppled his entire life. It was starting to affect his work, one of the reasons he had originally decided never to actually take a lover. But this was troubling him worse than any lover he’d ever had. 

He kicked absently at the cement curb in front of the embassy. He had to see her. There was nothing else for it. He was driving himself crazy and everyone around him. Horacio was _this_ close to kicking his ass.

Javi took one last long draw on the cigarette decisively before stamping the bud beneath his boot.

Less than an hour later, he was pulling his jeep up to the sidewalk in front of her apartment, uncharacteristically nervous. Another reason he didn’t do this dating bullshit.

A familiar face awaited him on the sidewalk, but not the one he’d been hoping to see.

Xochitl popped her gum his way curiously. “Y aquí tenemos el pendejo.” 

“Tranquilo,” Javi held his hands up in defeat. “I just came to talk. To apologize.”

Xochitl’s eyes traversed his form from head to toe as if disgusted. “You’re the last person she’d want to see.” Xochitl began walking away. 

“Wait,” Javi pursued her. 

She turned on her heel, laughing. “Just because I am a prostitute doesn’t mean I want to talk to you either, Javi. I should’ve known what you were there for.”

Javi shifted, uncomfortable. “She was with you. That’s why I thought-.” 

Xochitl laughed again, interrupting him. “Bien pendejo, eres.” But she’d stopped walking and began towards him again.

Javi smiled bashfully. “Siempre.” 

Xochitl clicked in the code that buzzed open the door to the building and held it open for him. “Buena suerte, pendejo.”

Javi ran through the door before she changed her mind.  
___________

You started at the knock at the door, already immersed deeply in your work. You rolled your eyes. Xochitl was always forgetting something or other.

Ignoring the precautions she always told you to take, you swept the door open, sure it couldn’t be anyone but her.

Then, your heart stuttered. His handsome, rugged, familiar face made you forget to breathe.

“Wait,” there was a desperation in his voice you hadn’t heard last time as he reached out to catch the door from slamming back in his face. “Wait,” he begged.

You paused. Now that you’d had a proper look, he seemed more ragged than rugged. The circles under his eyes ran deep and dark, and his eyes were just barely bloodshot. You hesitated, long enough for him to take a faltering step forward.

“Let me explain myself. Please.” He waved his hands helplessly. “I can’t- I just can’t-.” His hands went to cover his face, and you caved. You were embarrassed, not heartless.

“Pasa.” You stepped back and opened the door widely. He stepped in uncertainly.

You brushed by him as you shut the door behind you and locked it. Immediately, you felt a frisson in the air. His close proximity was dangerous. Already, you could feel the surface of your skin tingling at his nearness, so you rushed over to your sofa, indicating he could sit in the armchair, at a safe distance. He eyed the empty cushion next to you on the sofa, but relented and sat on the edge of the arm chair.

“I didn’t know,” he started lamely, then stopped himself. “I had no reason to know…” he stopped himself again. You let him struggle. You kept your eyes on his knees, figuring that was a safe place to look, until his hands came to rest on his knees, and you found yourself studying his long, graceful fingers, devoid of any rings. 

He took a deep shuddering breath. “Look, I can’t- I can’t think straight lately. I can’t-.” The tremor in his voice caught your attention and finally you met his eyes. They had already been boring into you. They were a soulful, warm brown, filled with something sorrowful, and you couldn’t tear your gaze away now. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You began to scoff, disbelieving.

“Not-” He started to surge forward as if to take your hands, then thought better of it. He sat back down heavily. “Not the sex,” he promised. “I mean,” he stuttered, “that was the best sex I-... I mean, it’s not just that.”

You rolled your eyes, but he still had your attention. Because the words he was saying...you felt them too. You hadn’t been able to get your mind off him, which had only incensed you further. Still, you listened.

“I’m sorry I assumed.” He finished, his voice cracking almost imperceptibly.

You shifted in your seat. 

“I just thought,” he started, and now you interrupted him, sure you knew where he was going.

“That every girl from Bogotá ends up in a sex ring?” Your voice held a bite, and he studied you carefully, frowning.

“No.” He bit back, but his voice softened. “No. Just that bar. And Xochitl-”

You started to stand. “Don’t bring her into this.”

He raised his hands in a plea. “Look,” he said as you sat back down with a huff. “I _am_ sorry I assumed, but what’s the big deal? There’s nothing wrong with being a prostitute.” Now he sounded defensive.

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” you snapped. “That’s not why I’m upset.” That last part you hadn’t meant to voice. 

His mouth formed an o shape of surprise, and despite your ire, you couldn’t help but admire the shape of his lips nor recall the feeling of having them on you.

He shifted forward in his seat, barely sitting anymore. “Then what-”

“Never mind,” you interrupted, swiping the glass of water you’d been drinking before he arrived, just to keep your lips busy so you wouldn’t have to talk. He watched you, apprehensively, before shifting from the armchair to the cushion beside you.

You nearly choked on your sip of water at his sudden closeness. “Just- tell me.” He took the water from your hand gently when you’d finished drinking and put it down on the table with a soft clink.

You shook your head. “I wasn’t mad you thought I was a prostitute. I-...” Now it was your turn to falter.

He reached forward, his eyes questioning. You found yourself nodding a small assent, and then he was enveloping your hands in his, and the effect on your body was instantaneous. As if the warmth flowed from his large palms and into the rest of you. 

You closed your eyes briefly, not wanting to see his when you spoke. “I was upset because I thought- I thought you’d _liked_ me. I thought you’d approached me because you saw something in me…” You trailed off, embarrassed for a second time.

When you opened your eyes, he was chuckling with relief. His eyes were warm again and a weight looked like it had been lifted off his shoulders. You frowned now. 

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, mamí.” The endearment gave you butterflies, made you feel weightless suddenly. “Así me siento.”

“But you only talked to me because you thought I was-”

He was shaking his head. “Pues, sí. But…” This seemed difficult for him, as he strained his jaw as he spoke. You got the feeling he didn’t often proclaim his feelings on anything, let alone these kinds of feelings. “I don’t know how to describe it.” He looked down at his hands covering yours, then he was flexing his fingers and loopings his between yours tightly. You squeezed softly, as he rubbed the top of your hands with his thumbs, his soft touches leaving you nearly breathless again.

“The moment I left here, I missed you…” You watched in a daze as his thumbs blazed small circles over your skin. His touch was electrifying. It was dizzying. His words more so. He used your clasped hands to budge your chin up so you were looking at him in the eye. The look you saw there was so intense you wanted to look away. It told you more than he’d yet managed to get through his lips. 

He cradled your face in his hands now. “I.” He placed a heavy kiss on your left eyebrow. “Cannot.” Another kiss, this time on your right brow. “Stop.” A kiss over one eye. “Thinking.” Your other eye. “About.” The tip of your nose. “You.” Here his lips stopped within a centimeter of yours and you could nearly taste his breath on yours. 

You took the initiative and shifted forwards, but the moment your lips met his, he was dominating the kiss, tightening his hold on your face, putting his tongue in your mouth, biting your lower lip, groaning into your mouth. You gave as much as you got, but he was leaving you breathless.

Finally, he pulled away, pecked your lips once softly before resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling now.

“Me too.” You whispered into him, and he drew in a soft breath.

“Javier.” You started.

“Javi.” He interrupted you, taking your lips in another deep, long kiss. 

“Javi,” you repeated, breathless.

He hmmed, a question.

“You won’t change your mind?”

Javi leaned back now to admire your face fondly. “No, mamí.” He promised, kissing your chin softly. “I’d like-” He seemed uncertain again, as if searching for the right words. “I’d like- to try...to make this work. I haven’t dated anyone in a long-.”

You put a finger to his lips and smiled faintly. “Me neither.” You kissed where your finger had just been and lazily he kissed you back, more intent on watching your face. “This will work.” 

There was something in his eyes you hadn’t yet seen. His eyes shined with...with adoration. Your face went warm. “It won’t be easy.” His voice was hoarse. “My work…” He clenched his jaw. “My work will make it difficult, but…” He rested his forehead against yours again. “This will work.” He finally echoed your words.

You studied his face intently. Then it was your turn to be tender. You cupped his cheek in your hand and felt him lean into your touch. He kissed the part of your hand he could reach with his lips, then brought your hand closer to his lips with his own hand and kissed you full on the palm.

You kissed each other for what felt like hours, until your lips were soft and full and you were drowsy against his chest. He stared at your face as he caressed it. Then he was kicking off his shoes, laying down on the sofa and bringing you to lay on top of him. You buried your face deep in the crook of his neck, inhaling only him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wanted to reiterate the point I had both characters make in the dialogue...this wasn’t meant to be in any way a critique of sex workers. Here, it’s a plot point to make for a little humor and angst for the characters, based in the fact that one thought the other wasn’t interested in more than sex, if that makes sense. Wanted to add the disclaimer that I’m pro sex workers’ rights. I didn’t want anything I’d written above to be construed as the contrary. I think the plot point also serves to further development of the Javier Peña character who is portrayed in the show as having been close to some sex workers throughout his career in Colombia. Please feel free to send me a message if I forgot to address anything I should have, etc.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to reiterate the point I had both characters make in the dialogue...this wasn’t meant to be in any way a critique of sex workers. Here, it’s a plot point to make for a little humor and angst for the characters, based in the fact that one thought the other wasn’t interested in more than sex, if that makes sense. Wanted to add the disclaimer that I’m pro sex workers’ rights. I didn’t want anything I’d written above to be construed as the contrary. I think the plot point also serves to further development of the Javier Peña character who is portrayed in the show as having been close to some sex workers throughout his career in Colombia. Please feel free to send me a message if I forgot to address anything I should have, etc.


End file.
